


nineteenth october (2016 remix)

by snsk



Series: anniversary [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 19/10/16, M/M, anniversary fic, seven year mark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 05:56:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8316415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snsk/pseuds/snsk
Summary: “You do talk a lot of rubbish, Dan,” Phil told him, knocking his shoulder against his.





	

The streetlight was turning the wall beside Dan golden-orange. A mosquito buzzed around his left ear; he swatted it away and managed to hit Phil in the face, knocking his glasses askew.

“Thanks, Dan,” Phil said, very drily, reaching up to adjust them.

“You’re welcome,” Dan offered. He smiled at Phil winningly. Phil shook his head and took it as the apology it sort of wasn’t, really.

“So.” Phil tugged down at the sleeves of his yellow hoodie. “Where are you taking me?”

“No, no,” Dan said. “It’s just a walk, remember? We’re enjoying the night air.”

Phil gave a little skeptical hum. They rounded the corner.

“What is that noise,” Dan enquired politely.

“Not a noise.”

“That noise,” Dan insisted. “You just don’t want to enjoy a nice evening walk with me. Is that it, Philip Lester? I don’t captivate you anymore. My charms have faded. This romance is dead.”

“You do talk a lot of rubbish, Dan,” Phil told him, knocking his shoulder against his. He didn’t move away, after that, and pulled his sleeves down a bit more, and stuffed them into his hoodie pockets.

“Sorry it’s cold,” Dan said. “I did say to bring something warmer. Do you want my scarf?”

“No,” Phil said, and in the moment between one streetlight and the next, pressed his nose into Dan’s shoulder, quick. “Just a bit fresh, promise. The walk’s helping. Also when you said we were going for a quick stroll, I thought we were genuinely going for a quick stroll, my mistake.”

“Who says we aren’t?”

“Your walk,” Phil said, sounding amused. “That isn’t your stroll walk. That’s your final destination walk.”

“I’m not taking you to our _deaths_ , Phil. Final destination walk, Jesus.”

“I didn’t mean to make it sound so,” Phil said, giggling a bit. “Ominous. But you know what I mean. How you walk when you have a specific place in mind. Shoulders back, nose in the air. Like a doggo on the scent.” He laughed at his own wit.

Dan spared him an Unamused Glance, which only made him giggle even more, breathless about it, tongue poking out a bit. “ _Left_ , dork,” Dan said, and they turned into the street Dan had been looking out for.

Half of the shops were dark and closed, but laughter spilled out from a pub, and the comforting stream of cars still tricked steadily. There had been many nights like this, them and the rest of the world. There would be many more.

“I can’t believe,” Dan remarked, “you’ve memorised all my walks. That’s not obsessive and codependent at all.”

Phil shrugged. “You know how many freckles I have.”

“That’s-”

“All over.”

“Point made,” Dan said. “Also, but also, my point exactly. This is such a weird and unhealthy relationship.”

In the warm sunset glow of the next streetlight, Dan caught Phil’s smile, the one reserved for when he thought maybe not even Dan was looking, but he didn’t mind if Dan did. “We’re clearly broken.”

“Clearly,” Dan agreed. “Oh, oh, here,” he said, throwing out a hand to stop Phil.

The sign on the dark green shopfront read: BreakLast.

Dan rang the doorbell. It let out a shrill, happy shriek back at him.

“It’s very quiet,” Phil said, peering in. Heavy grey curtains obstructed his view. “Maybe it’s closed, Dan.”

“Nah, nah,” Dan assured him, just as the door opened.

“Welcome, welcome!” a short, moustached man with wide nostrils and almost delicate ears practically yelled at them. He pumped Dan’s, then Phil’s hands up and down. “I’m Adee!”

“Hi,” Phil said, smiling back at him, eyes bright. “I’m Phil.”

“I’m Dan,” Dan contributed. “Howell.”

Adee’s features lit up. “Howell, Howell. _Yes_! My special guests for the night! Come right on in.”

Inside, there was candlelight casting flickering shadows on the walls, and everything seemed cosy and a bit cramped, and the tablecloths were green, too, to match the olive walls. Patrons lined the small tables, and what sounded like Edward Elgar was playing. It smelled like the inside of a bakery, warm wafts of premium roasted coffee assaulting their senses at intervals. Dan, trailing behind as Adee led them to the back, could see Phil falling in love.

Adee brought them to a flight of narrow, low-hanging ceilinged stairs with no real bannister to grip onto. Phil turned to shoot a look at Dan, which Dan knew from experience meant _don’t let me embarrass myself here._

Dan, who would’ve watched out anyway when embarking upon this multi-coordination death trap for Phil, ordered, “Watch your head,” on the second flight of stairs, and Phil gratefully ducked before he smacked it against a hanging lamp and went reeling. They managed to make it without significant injury to the final door, the one to the roof.

When Adee pushed it open, Phil’s gaze swept over what was laid out for just a moment, then came to rest on Dan. He looked happy. He looked so happy, in his Adventure Time hoodie and glasses and hair sticking up at the back from when he’d been recovering from a headache on the sofa and Dan, antsy about the reservation he’d made weeks ago, had begged him to please please go for a walk, it might help. And he’d agreed tiredly, because he let Dan have his own way so _much_.

And now he looked so _happy_. Dan’s heart could not contain, sometimes, what he felt for this boy.

“I’ll bring your pancakes up shortly!!!” Adee assured them in a flourish of exclamation points, and left.

“Did he say _pancakes_ ,” Phil said delightedly.

“He said pancakes,” Dan confirmed. He tangled their fingers together and led Phil to the table set up for them, on the corner of the roof, overlooking the streets of their London, the stars they had loved together for years above them, close enough to reach up and touch. “Welcome to the only breakfast-food night restaurant in London. Have a seat, sir.”

Phil’s eyes were kind of stunning, right in this moment. There was a candle on the table, and red roses in a bowl, and a huge tube of maple syrup.

“Happy nineteenth, Phil,” Dan said.

“It’s not the nineteenth yet,” Phil said, voice a bit rough. “You can’t beat me at my own anniversary game. You just wait till the nineteenth.” He pressed Dan’s palm to his lips for a long, long moment; the pads of Dan’s fingers felt slightly damp, so Dan used his thumb to reach under the frame of his glasses and swipe gently at the corner of his eye.

“Bring it on, bro,” he advised smugly.

 

**Author's Note:**

> what do you MEAN i started crying halfway through this hAPpy sEVen YeAR ANNIVERSARY idIOTs


End file.
